


That Time of the Week

by lost_spook



Series: 50 Ficlets - Claim Kenny Phillips, Press Gang [15]
Category: Press Gang
Genre: Community: 50ficlets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny’s only ever cruel when he’s in a really good mood…</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time of the Week

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 50ficlets prompt 37 'Feeling good'. No spoilers.

It had been a good week, as weeks went in the _Junior Gazette_ office, and Kenny whistled to himself as he sat back down in his chair.

“Kenny, shut up and die,” said Lynda from the other side of the desk without looking up. Spike was elsewhere, probably passport hunting.

“Yes, Boss. Any particular method, or shall I surprise you?”

“Well, you’ve never managed to yet, so I shouldn’t bother,” said Lynda. She glanced up. “Anyway, nothing messy or noisy, and not till after next Tuesday. We’re busy.”

“Right you are, Boss,” he said, and reached across to take her mobile phone from her hands.

“Hey!”

“Wrong button,” he told her, holding up the cell phone, pointing to the correct one. “This one will erase your messages – _this_ one to play them back, which I think was what you were aiming for.”

Lynda glared, as she snatched it back. “Actually, just die now, Phillips. We can spare you.”

“If you don’t mind, Lynda, I’ll wait a couple more minutes – there’s something I need to do first.”

Lynda frowned. “What?” Then her expression cleared, and she shook her head as she returned to her work. “You know, you’re pathetic.”

Kenny only grinned back at her, and got up, rubbing his hands together as he stepped to the centre of the news room. It was his highlight of the week; his petty, fleeting moment of power and cruelty, and he wanted to enjoy it. Of course, on bad weeks, it could make everything worse, but this hadn’t been a bad week, and the next edition was looking promising, so…

“Right, everyone,” he said, raising his voice to get their attention, “I know how long you’ve been waiting to hear me say it, and you'll all be as happy as I am to find the moment has come at last.” He gave the requisite dramatic pause: “Final paste up in half an hour!”

Around him everyone else groaned, protested, and set to work in a sudden panicked flurry of paper and hasty typing.

Kenny sat back down, smirking at Lynda, who rolled her eyes. “Pathetic,” she said again.

“You should learn to appreciate the little things in life,” he told her, even though he knew he was risking getting something thrown at his head.

“Kenny, didn’t you promise me you’d get on and die now?”

“Must have slipped my mind, boss. Shall I finish editing this first?”

“Yeah, might as well,” said Lynda. “I’ll kill you myself next week instead. How about that?”

“I’ll put it in your diary. How does Wednesday sound?”

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” she said, but she grinned back at him, if only for a moment.


End file.
